


I Drunk Dialed My Mechanic

by thewriterofperfectdisasters



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 'IT'S A PIPE BOMB YAAAAAAAAY!', 'what's that mysterious ticking noise?', Alternate Universe, Drunk Dialing, M/M, Mechanic!Mickey', go me, hopefully this makes sense???, i am very sleepy rn, omg this is like a combination of two aus, who fucking knows anymore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 01:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1839502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterofperfectdisasters/pseuds/thewriterofperfectdisasters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title is basically self explanatory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Drunk Dialed My Mechanic

**Author's Note:**

> it's 2:45am so i really hope this makes sense

_i'm kinda drunk and i miss you a lot and i just thought you should know that i'm fine without you because i don’t think you ever really liked me in the first place_

_but i miss you_

_and i still love you a teeny bit even though it’s been like four months_

_maybe it’s just the alcohol making me say this._

_i hope you’re okay though._

Mickey groaned as the light of his phone blinded him. It was 3am, there was a random number texting him, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

 

_look i have no idea who the fuck you are but you have the wrong number._

Mickey locked his phone and shoved his head back into the pillow. He thought maybe this person would get the message to stop texting him. Apparently, he was wrong.

 

_it's ian, you fucking twat. delete my number huh ed?_

_no seriously you have the wrong number. this is not ed. my name is mickey. i have work in 4 hours so please just fuck off._

Mickey decided to put up an extra line of defense and actually turn his phone off. He rolled over, pulled the covers over his head, and went back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

_this is probably kinda awkward but sorry i  was texting you last night. i was drunk and misdialled my ex’s number. hope you got back to sleep lol :)_

Mickey stared at the phone. This guy just wouldn’t leave him alone. Who texts someone they don’t know to apologise hours later after drunk dialling them? Also, what the hell was the protocol for this shit? Was Mickey supposed to just ignore it, or was he supposed to text back and say... What?

 

_we've all been there, man. it's fine, dw._

_okay. sorry again, mickey._

Mickey wondered idly how this guy knew his name. He scrolled back up through their messages and saw that he had given his guy – Ian – his name. Half-asleep Mickey seemed to be nicer than actual fully awake Mickey. Usually it was the opposite.

 

_i still feel really bad. can i buy you a drink or something?_

_man, you don’t even know where i live. besides, i think you’ve had enough for the next few days._

_i only had like two beers. my meds make me a total lightweight._

_um okay_

_is that a yes??? are you in chicago???_

_no but yes._

Mickey shoved his phone back in his pocket, as his boss walked past and peered at the engine Mickey was working on.

‘What are you even doing?’ his boss asked, raising an eyebrow at Mickey.

‘Trying to find the source of a mysterious ticking noise.’ Mickey said, repressing a yawn.

‘Any ideas what it is?’

‘Maybe it’s a pipe bomb!’ Mickey muttered. ‘No, haven’t got a clue. Either this guy has supersonic  hearing and I’m missing something, or there’s no noise.’

‘Hmm.’ Mickey’s boss frowned and walked off.

‘Hey, any luck finding that noise?’ the car’s owner walked up to where Mickey was standing, staring at the engine with an annoyed expression on his face.

Mickey looked over to him. He was tall, red hair, pale skin with dustings of freckles, and the greenest eyes that ever did green. Mickey bit his lip and turned his attention back to the car. ‘Don’t know what to tell you, man. I can’t find anything wrong with your car.’

The guy furrowed his eyebrows and came to stand beside Mickey. He looked at the engine, with its bits and pieces that meant nothing to him, and said, ‘Shoulda gotten my brother to look at it. He could’ve told me I was imagining things for free.’

Mickey laughed. ‘Are you sure it was the engine? Could just be something _inside_ your car moving around. Like a stone in the glove box or something.’

Red moved around and opened the passenger side to pull open the glove box. ‘Empty.’ he called back. ‘Any other suggestions?’

‘Uh... Under the seat, maybe?’ Mickey said, wiping his hands on a rag.

Red adjusted his position to shove his hand under the seats. Mickey might’ve enjoyed the view. Red shook his head and stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans. _Christ, he’s tall._ He pulled his phone out, sent off a text, and sighed. ‘Maybe I was just imagining it.’

Mickey’s phone went off, and he shrugged noncommittally. ‘If it breaks down, you know where to find me.’

 

_you're in chicago?_

_yeah. should i be telling you this?_

Mickey yawned and put his phone back in his pocket. The redhead’s phone went off a few moments later, and tiny little alarm bells went off in Mickey’s head. He watched as the guy typed out a response, and felt his own phone go off again.

 

_idk stranger danger?_

Mickey glanced up at him, eyebrow raised, as he sent a reply.

 

_are you at a mechanic’s right now bc i'm helping this hot redhead guy and he’s texting a lot idk is it you???_

Jesus, that was pretty damn bold by Mickey’s standards. He watched as the redhead’s eyebrows shot into his hairline when he received the next text.

He looked up to Mickey and said, ‘Oh my God, did I drunk dial you last night?’

Mickey grinned and sent him a text.

 

_yeah i think you might’ve_

The guy’s phone went off and he rolled his eyes. ‘I’m right here. But uh, sorry about that.’

Mickey shrugged again. ‘It’s no problem. At least it wasn’t my sister texting me to tell me what a douche I am.’

Red grinned. ‘I’m Ian. You’re Mickey, right?’

‘Yeah.’ Mickey pointed to the stitched cursive lettering on his overalls. ‘Small world, huh.’

Ian leaned against his car and tilted his head. ‘You really think I’m hot?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘’Spose.’

‘Huh. Does stranger danger still apply now that we’ve met?’

‘Well I don’t know about you, but I don’t make a habit of meeting up with people who drunk dial me at three in the morning.’ Mickey said, making sure Ian’s hands weren’t near the bonnet before shutting it gently.

‘Me either.’ Ian agreed. ‘You wanna go out for a drink though?’

Mickey looked him up and down, nodded slowly, like he wasn’t freaking out inside, and said, ‘I finish at five.’

‘Great.’ Ian smiled. ‘Text me your address and I’ll pick you up at about seven?’

‘That sounds suspiciously like a date.’ Mickey said, passing him the paperwork and payment information.  
‘Never said it wasn’t.’ Ian said, signing the papers and going to the office to pay. ‘Seven?’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Fine. Seven.’

He acted like he hated the idea, which he did, because dates were _not_ something that Mickey did, but he had a feeling that Ian would push him out of his comfort zone, and this would be just the beginning.


End file.
